


Saving the Devil (and Others)

by radnuggets



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Sad, im really not sure, like super duper sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2018-01-14 20:58:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1278580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radnuggets/pseuds/radnuggets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winchester family was a long line of tragedy and loss, and the youngest sons of the last surviving Winchester knew that all too well. After what would hopefully be the last loss of their lives, Sam and Dean try to build their lives up, complete with walls to protect them. But how do you keep out people who need to get in the most?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> WOAH THERE SHOULD PROBABLY BE A LOT OF TRIGGER WARNINGS IN HERE BUT THIS IS IT THIS IS THE TRIGGER WARNING THIS ENTIRE FIC IS A TRIGGER WARNING IDEK WHAT TO SAY WHAT KIND IT IS IT JUST IS OKAY IF U THINK YOU'LL BE TRIGGERED BY ANYTHING JUST DONT. DONT READ IF YOURE AFRAID YOULL BE TRIGGERED OR SOMETHING. WOW IM TERRIBLE.

Not often did Dean Winchester wake up before noon on a weekend. Barely anything could wake the grumpy teenager up, unless it was fit enough to wake the dead. Especially when he was pissed off. He could sleep the whole day away if he was angry enough at someone, or himself

If his little brother hadn't started screaming for him from down the hall, Dean would've still been asleep, unaware that his whole life was about to change. But like a protective mama bear, Dean jumped out of bed, dashing towards the sounds of the cubs scream. Sam was standing wide-eyed in the doorway of their dad's room, slowly stepping in with shaking hands and messy hair. It was around the regular time for Sam to get his medication from out of that room, but by the looks of it, he wasn't going to be getting it.

"Dad?" Dean breathed, moving Sam out of the way so he could step farther into the room. The ceiling fan was swinging slightly, still moving from the weight hanging from it. "Dad...?" he repeated, as if his limp father would reply.

"Dean, I don't think he's..." Sam choked out, before running his arm across his teary eyes. "I'm gonna call 911," he sighed, shuffling farther into the room to take the phone off the receiver. Dean was still staring at his dad as the smallest Winchester sat himself on the bed, relieving his shaking legs.

Dean touched his dad's hand, which was cold and stiff. As much in death as he was in life. "How long you think he's been up here for?" Dean muttered, barely to his brother. Sam ignored him anyway, numbly spewing out information to the emergency dispatch operator. He sighed and looked at the pale and shaking boy on the bed. His eyes were closed and he looked as though he were fighting for air, a common state for the kid to be in before his medications were given to him. He spoke evenly, despite how much he was shaking. "Sammy, let's go downstairs," Dean sighed, tugging his brother from off the bed.

Sam continued to speak while Dean pulled out the nightstand and fished around for Sam's pill bottles. He pretended he didn't notice all the empty one's scattered on the nightstand. When he stepped out into the hallway, he hesitated before looking up at his dad, then shutting the door. "Do you think we should take him down?" Sam asked quietly. He was off the phone, still shaking, clutching the thing in his hand so tight that Dean was afraid he would break it. The kid was eight years old and he just found his dad strung up in his room. Sam wasn't stupid, he understood what happened to his dad. Dean shook his head and pushed his brother's hair back, cupping his cheek for a short moment before coaxing him down the hallway, the two of them hesitant to walk away from their father's room.

Once downstairs, Sam poured himself a glass of water and took the two pills that Dean held out to him. An ambulance pulled into the driveway. Dean pointed the paramedics upstairs. Sam stayed hidden. It was raining.

* * *

Bobby arrived 12 minutes later, his eyes hinting he had been crying. Sam ran out the front door and into his arms, hugging him tightly, while Dean waited at the door with their bags. It was a Saturday, and it was still early, so Bobby was just as hung-over as he was any other day. Too hung-over to be dealing with his best friend's death. Dean shrugged Sam's bag onto his shoulder, his own on his other, and stepped out of the door. No words were said. Dean just got into the passenger seat after dumping the two bags in the back seat. Sam crawled into the back of Bobby's truck, laying across the seats and resting his head on Dean's bag. They were completely silent all the way to Bobby's.

The gravel driveway of Bobby's home either lead to the old two story house, or split off to the back and farther to where Bobby had his scrap-yard. The truck was parked in front of the porch of the house. The three of them sat quietly in the truck, not really sure how to start anything. Sam got bored of listening to the truck's old engine, so he sat up and grabbed his bag, hopping out of the truck to walk towards the house. A dog started barking, and Sam discarded his bag on the porch floor when Rumsfeld bounded over to them, happy to see the boys. He slowed to greet Sam, who sat on the porch steps and rubbed behind the Rottweiler's ears. The two got along better than gasoline and a match, and Sam felt more comfortable around Rumsfeld when he was down, so Dean didn't hover around his little brother. Instead, he followed Bobby inside. Bobby tossed his truck keys onto the kitchen table and let out a long sigh. Dean put his bag down on the couch a room over, then sat down. It was a long time before Bobby spoke, and when he did, he was holding a bottle of beer out to Dean. The boy looked it over, and gave Bobby a skeptical look.

"Boy, don't you tell me you don't drink, because I know you sneak your daddy's beer," Bobby grunted, shoving the beer closer to him. Dean chuckled and took it, running his thumb over the mouth of the bottle with a sigh. Bobby peeked out the window, checking the boy who was still out on the porch with the dog, getting huge slobbery kisses from the so-called ferocious guard dog. Bobby was never one for being sentimental. Dean knew him all his life, and he knew that the man that was pretty much his uncle had no idea how to sympathize with a twelve-year old whose father just killed himself. Bobby tried, he started by letting out a long sigh and sitting next to Dean, placing a hand on his shoulder. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words weren't there.

"You don't have to say anything, Uncle Bobby," Dean mumbled, then took a sip from the beer. Bobby froze for a second, then nodded. They were silent until they heard a small laugh from Sam outside, and Rumsfeld barked a couple of times. "I'm just worried about him," he shrugged, jerking his head towards the noise. Bobby nodded again, taking a long drink out of his beer bottle. Both of them were quiet again, until Sam walked through the door and Bobby asked if Rumsfeld had been behaving himself.

Over breakfast, Bobby talked about work and his last hunting trip and anything that wasn't John Winchester. He even started talking about Karen, and how she would have Sam's head if she saw him with hair that messy. It was true, Sam's hair was getting a bit scruffy, but he liked it.

"You boys can have my room tonight, I can take the couch," Bobby announced through a piece of sausage. Sam was rinsing his plate, having scraped off most of his food into Rumsfeld's scrap bowl. He put the plate down on the counter, before grabbing onto the edge of it. He got a dizzy spell, blinking at the wooden surface.

"Sammy?" Dean asked, standing from the table. He pulled his little brother from the counter, holding him up so he would face him.

"I'm just dizzy. I'm fine," he nodded, patting his older brother's arm and pulling way. The two older people in the room were frowning in worry, watching as Sam quietly left the room and into the reading room.

Bobby looked to Dean, who was running his hand over his face. "Jesus, you two are gonna be a handful."

* * *

Somehow, between the time Sam woke up from the nap he'd fallen into, and the time they got up the next morning, Bobby had been able to arrange a small funeral. Kind of. He'd gotten a hold of the place where Mary was buried. They said they had a plot close to her, that they'd happily give John a good place to rest. That was when Dean cut in and said that his dad wanted to be cremated. Bobby then sighed and let the funeral home know that decision, and they recommended a crematorium.

When they received the ashes, they sat around the kitchen table in silence, trying to figure out what was next.

"We should spread some with mom," Sam said quietly, not taking his eyes off the black box. Dean looked at his brother, jumping at the mention of their mother, someone that wasn't brought up in forever, even among all this. "He'd like that, wouldn't he?" Sam asked, looking first at Dean, then to Bobby. Bobby and Dean shared a look before Dean nodded.

"We should put all of him with mom. I mean, I don't think he'd want to be anywhere else," Dean added. Sam's eyes watered as he nodded. "She's probably why he did it, anyway."

"Dean," Bobby breathed, but didn't argue.

"It's true. He wasn't the same after she died, Bobby, you know that. It was just a matter of time, you know?" Dean shrugged. Bobby hesitated, but nodded. It was true. Dean knew it was true. Bobby knew it was true. Sam didn't know any better.

"Let's just go, Dean," the younger brother mumbled, getting up from the table and moving to the other room. Dean sighed and Bobby lifted the container carefully, and they both followed Sam to the door.

What Dean remembered of his parents was much different from what Sam did. Dean was four when everything changed. He knew how beautiful and loving Mary was. He remembered _Hey Jude_ and the angels and the bracelet she always wore. Dean remembered the way she loved John, and how happy John was when he was with her. He remembered John's smile. His genuine smile. Everything changed before Sam was old enough to remember any of that. Maybe he remembered the flames in his nursery, or her soft voice, but not the way Dean did. Sam only knew the stone set face of his father, his strict voice. He couldn't remember the smile on his face when Sam was born, or they found out Sam would be okay, or when he looked at Mary.

Sam understood that his dad committed suicide, but Dean was the one who understood why he did it. Out of loneliness.


	2. Chapter 2

**April 16th, 2014**

He hated getting up early. He had no idea why he had to be getting up as early as he had been, why he continued to put himself through early mornings and going through the same motions he had been almost his whole life. Graduating was supposed to mean that he was _done_ with school, not that he had to go for more. He could have just stuck with being a mechanic. He'd done it all through his high school years, why the hell not keep going?

_Because your brother looks up to you, idiot._

Dean rolled onto his back and groaned, tugging the blankets up over his face. It wasn't easy being 21, but he was, and getting out of bed and ready for school was one of the things he had to do, not wanted to do.

The sun shone through his thin drapes, lighting the room just enough for him to pick out some clothes and find the door. The music from Sam's room was already on, letting Dean know he was either awake, or had fallen back asleep. Just in case, the older brother cracked his door open to check on him. His brother was on the other side of the room, tugging on a shirt.

"I'm gonna take a shower, Sammy, did you already have one?" Dean called, making the kid jump in surprise and scramble for the flannel button-up that was draped on the arm of his reading chair.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good," Sam replied shakily, and Dean laughed, backing out from the room with a shake of his head. He knew he didn't have to let Sam know what he was doing, he just needed an excuse to keep an eye on him.

He turned on the shower with the faucet all on hot. He caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror, seeing the stubble that was hanging out on his jaw. He ducked down to check for a new razor head under the sink, knowing there were tons to spare. Only, there wasn't. Whatever, just as well look like a college kid while he's there, right?

Dean knew what day it was, but he didn't want to know. So, when he stepped downstairs and Bobby had a glass of Scotch in his hand, he played it off like it was a normal thing. It was, but at seven AM? Not really. Sam wanted to stay home, he could tell. He lingered in his room a little too long and took a little too long to eat his cereal. Well, the amount of cereal he usually ate wasn't much, anyways. But Dean didn't say anything about it, because then he'd be pulled into letting his little brother stay home. And Sam wouldn't ask because he didn't want to put Dean in the position that a parent should have to be in. Bobby wouldn't say anything because he just didn't really care if Sam stayed home or not. He was smarter than Dean. He noticed more.

"I'll pick you up at three if you want?" Dean asked as they walked down Bobby's porch stairs and to the black car. Sam scratched Rumsfeld's head as he passed, not answering Dean until they reached the car.

"I think I'm going to Gabriel's," Sam replied, having to duck into the car. He'd hit his head enough times to remember to be careful of his above-average height. He seemed a little nervous as they backed out of the gravel driveway and onto the road. "Um, Dean?" he asked. Dean could tell he was scared of what he was going to ask, which was worrisome because usually his little brother just out and asked stuff. Hell, if he was going to ask about their dad. "The Senior Blowout is the day after my birthday," he started, looking down at his phone, a little unsure about wording the question. Dean was always a little put off by the fact that his brother went to parties and had friends that did drugs, mainly because he didn't want the poor kid to turn out the way he did. Then again, Dean _was_ going to university now.

"Senior Blowout, huh?" Dean smirked, followed by a whistle. "I remember my Senior Blowout. You remember Lisa Braeden? Craziest party. Ever," Dean nodded, a smile still on his face. Sam kind of chuckled, watching his brother carefully. Dean was quiet for a few seconds before he sighed. "You wanna go, right?"

"If you don't let me, I'll probably sneak out and go anyways," Sam shrugged, and Dean laughed, even though he knew Sam was being completely serious.

"Yeah. Yeah, why not," Dean nodded. "You shouldn't be asking me anyways, it's not like I'm..." he trailed off, then looked back to the road. Sam swallowed hard and looked down at the radio, then reached to turn up whatever mix tape Dean had in the old Impala. Turned out the two of them weren't really wanting to face what day it was.

Once Sam was dropped off at the high school, walking towards the doors with someone Dean didn't recognize, the older Winchester brother started to make his way over to the suburbs that were right across from the school. He was excited to get someone in his car that didn't know the exact date of his father's death, so once he pulled up to the Novak's townhouse, he honked a few times and rolled down the passenger side window to shout at whatever siblings were walking out the door. Gabriel, Sam's best friend, waved and leaned back into the house. Michael leaned on the rolled down window with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

"So, are you and my brother a thing?" he asked quietly, a playful grin growing on his face.

"You guys seem like a thing," another voice spoke from the driver's window. Dean pushed at Lucifer's face, who then fought himself back in to honk the horn. "Castiel, hurry up, your boyfriend's waiting!" he shouted towards the house. Michael laughed and extracted himself from the window before Dean smacked him upside the head like he had to his twin. Anna waved as she walked by, tugging Claire along with her. Castiel finally left the house, still trying to slip on his shoes.

"Sorry, I completely forgot it was a weekday," he sighed as he opened the door and slid in. Dean laughed and the car lurched forward before the other man could get his seat belt on. "The twins bothering you again?"

"Not bothering. Amusing," he smirked, getting an eye roll from his friend. "Are they goin' to Senior Blowout?" Dean asked after a few moments.

"Honestly, I don't know. Lucifer, probably. Not sure about Michael," Castiel shrugged.

"Sam told me he'd go whether I said he could or not, so I guess he's going," Dean said, waving to let a group of kids cross the street. Castiel laughed and shook his head. "What?"

"Life just seems easier without parents, huh?" Castiel smirked. Dean swallowed hard and nodded. That wasn't suspicious at all. "Maybe...not?" he mumbled in amendment. Dean shrugged and just smiled at him. "Sorry, I'll just..." Castiel looked out the window momentarily, then looked back to Dean, who was silent now. He had a hand on his lap, so Castiel took it and rubbed his thumb across the back of his hand. Every drop of tension spilled out of Dean in one breath, feeling much better with another hand in his.

"You know, your brother's are gonna find out soon," Dean spoke, squeezing Castiel's hand. "What if they tell Jimmy?"

"If they tell Jimmy, then I can tell him that I'm old enough to do what I want," he shrugged, and Dean whistled. "He'll probably kick me out though," he added with a sigh.

"Oh no, where will you go? Not like you have a boyfriend with a king sized bed or anything. You're screwed!" Dean howled, and Castiel let his hand go momentarily to punch him in the arm with a grin. The two laughed at each other, hands clinging back together. "I'm pretty sure the twins know anyways. Same with Sam. If he doesn't, then the walls are thicker than I thought."

"You're disgusting," Castiel grinned, but it was true. Bobby's house was old and Dean's room was right across the hall from Sam's. Bobby was a little further down, but chances were that he's seen the two cuddled up in front of the TV together, or put together that if Castiel was over in the morning that they'd probably been sleeping together. Even if they did know, they seemed to not care.

* * *

The way to Gabriel's house would've been fairly short, if more people knew that, other than sweets, the kid was addicted to other, less innocent things. Namely smoking, but put him at one of Crowley's parties and he'd be all over anything you gave him access to. Especially ladies. But the way they had to walk right now was because of his stupid new pack of strawberry flavored cigarettes. He tilted his head back and let out a thin line of smoke.

"Sammy, these are great," he groaned, the smoke dangling between his lips. Sammy chortled and shook his head, ducking into his hands to light his own, normal flavored one. "I thought you were gonna quit, those aren't good for you."

"They aren't good for you either, Gabe," Sam smirked before he took a long drag of the smoke. Gabriel rolled his eyes and looked off into the trees. The trail was heavy with vegetation and light with tread. No one but Michael and Lucifer ever came through that way because it lead directly to the Novak's house, so Gabriel picked it as his smoking grounds. All of his brother's knew he smoked, they weren't stupid. So if they walked through, the only person that had to stomp out their cigarette was Sam. Nobody but Gabriel knew about that. "Do you think my dad's with my mom?" Sam asked quietly, having slid down a tree trunk to sit. He'd asked Dean the question before, but Dean just shook it off, told him not to talk about their parents. Gabriel would answer any of Sam's questions, even if it were the meaning of life.

"Today's the nine year, isn't it?" Gabriel asked softly, and was answered by a nod. He let out smoke through his nose and shrugged. "I don't know, Sam...I mean people who kill themselves are supposed to go to hell, right?"

"Hmm, real sensitive, Gabe," Sam sighed as the boy sat in front of him. Gabriel smiled and patted his friend's knee, and kept it resting there.

"You think you're going to heaven?" Gabriel asked, scooting closer so he could lean into Sam's space. "After all you've done?"

"What are we referring to here?" Sam breathed, smoke coming out after it and into Gabriel's face. It didn't bother him one bit. In fact, now he leaned in closer. Sam wasn't exactly an angel, Gabriel knew it, and Gabriel knew how to bring the demon out in him. There wasn't an inch on Sam's body that he hadn't touched, and he knew exactly what each inch did to the boy. "Gabe, the twins are gonna come through soon," Sam groaned, trying to lean farther into the tree trunk.

"Already saw 'em going through," Gabriel smirked, practically crawling onto Sam's lap. "Come on, Sammy, you know you need a little TLC, huh?" One of his hands slid over his jeans where they were starting to bulge, and Sam didn't say anything. He just closed his eyes and tilted his head back on the tree and let out a smokey sigh through his nose. He heard his zipper come undone. He felt Gabriel pull him out. And, _fuck_ , did he feel his mouth on him.

"Gabe," he whispered, half in protest, half in pleasure. His hand fluttered down to the back of Gabriel's head, fingers tangling in his hair for something to hold on to. "This is probably one of the stupidest things we've done," he chuckled, but it was taken over by a moan.

"And the dirtiest," Gabriel added quickly, before shoving the whole thing in his mouth and sucking hard. Sam hissed and clung to the hair in his hand. Gabriel suddenly snapped up, "Actually, no, remember that time I skipped church for you to come over?"

"Shut your mouth or I'll put something in there," Sam smirked, and Gabriel leaned in to press their lips together.

"Is that a promise?" he whispered, and Sam moaned with a nod.

"You taste like fuckin' strawberries," Sam breathed, and Gabriel bit at his lip. "Maybe I do like those sissy smokes of yours."

"Shut up," Gabriel sighed, before moving back down to do what he had originally set out to do.

* * *

When they got to the house about a half hour later, the twins were arguing over who got to bring Jo Harvelle to the Senior Blowout. They were sitting around the kitchen island, shouting at each other random things that barely made sense. Gabriel sat across from them, picking up a nacho from the plate in front of them. Sam sat next to him and quietly listened as the two mocked one another.

"You guys should have your own TV show," Gabriel chimed in, mouth full with tortilla chips and cheese. The two, though they barely looked alike, glared at their younger brother with such identical intensity that Sam shuddered. Gabriel didn't seem phased and just shrugged with a smirk. "Why don't you flip a coin on it?" he suggested before stuffing his mouth with more nachos then getting up. He opened the fridge as the twins rolled their eyes.

"That's stupid, Gabe," Michael sighed, then turned his attention to Sam. "Who're you bringing?" Michael barely ever really talked to Sam. Actually, none of the Novak siblings really talked to him, except for Gabriel and Castiel. So, of course, when one of the siblings did talk to him, he was a little caught off guard.

Sam shrugged, "Uh, not sure. Maybe Ruby." Lucifer whistled and nodded.

"She's a piece," he smirked, getting a jab to the ribs from Michael. "She is!" Gabriel sat back down with two glasses of chocolate milk, sliding one in front of Sam. "Shame you can't come, Gabie," Lucifer said, swiping his little brother's glass and taking a sip from it.

"Trust me, I can get someone to bring me if I wanted them to," Gabriel sneered, snatching his milk back.

"Oooh, baby Gabie thinks he can get himself a senior girl, huh?" Lucifer grinned, nudging Michael, who rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. "Maybe I can pull some strings with Lilith, she thinks you're cute." Michael barked a laugh and Lucifer just looked at him.

"You might be able to pull some _g_ -strings with Lilith, but I'm not sure about getting her to go with Gabriel," Michael shrugged. The younger sibling burst out with laughter and Sam chuckled, but Lucifer just glared at his twin brother. "That was good, don't lie, that was good."

"Shut up, Mikey," Lucifer smirked, shoving his brother lightly.

Watching the Novaks interact was an interesting thing, especially the twins. Michael and Lucifer were both so different in looks, Michael having the dark hair of their father and Lucifer having the sandy blonde of their grandmother. They both had blue eyes, but the blue of Lucifer's was so much paler than Michael's, almost on the side of grey. Even personality-wise, they were different. Michael was obedient and all around the good boy, and Lucifer, well, he wasn't. Sam had heard stories of him, whichever ones were true or not, he didn't know. But he owned the school, and that didn't happen by being the good boy that his father wanted him to be.

But when you put the two together and they were getting along, they could pretty much be the same person. They could finish sentences and do things in unison without even trying, and it was really freaky when that happened, because they knew it was freaky.

Gabriel was usually found with the twins, because he was closer in age to them. Castiel was 21 and usually kept to himself when he was at home, Anna was 14 and Claire was 12. The fact that the twins were 18 and Gabriel was 17 meant that he was almost forced to hang out with them around the house. To say that he was close to them was a bit of an understatement because they did almost everything together.

Almost.

When Jimmy walked into the house a few hours later, Michael became the obedient thing he always was and stopped making sex jokes and arguing about the hot girl in their Chemistry class, and Lucifer stiffened and sunk into the couch. Sam noticed Gabriel became the little boy he turned into when he was trying to make himself look completely innocent. Like hell he was innocent.

"Did you boys do your homework?" Jimmy asked from the kitchen, and the twins looked at each other with wide eyes.

"We were just about to, sir," Gabriel replied, voice steady but face pale. The only response they got was a grunt from the kitchen, and the boys scrambled to their rooms. "Jeez, he's gonna give me a heart attack one day," Gabriel huffed as he shut his door, Sam already having taken a seat on the bed with his bag. He laughed and checked his phone when it buzzed.

> Dean: I'm ordering pizza for dinner if you're gonna be home

Sam replied with "okay cool" then locked and put his phone beside him. Gabriel groaned and sat in front of him on the bed, cracking open the Biology text book that he'd been complaining about carrying around. "What chapter are you guys on?" Sam asked while he dug around for the book he was reading in English.

"Human heart," Gabriel said plainly, trying to write down an answer to a question. Sam nodded and sat back against Gabe's headrest so he could read. They were quiet for a few moments while Gabriel did the unit questions and Sam read about how Gatsby loved Daisy. "Shit," Gabriel mumbled under his breath, staring at a question. Sam looked up to look at what page he was on. He remembered the diagram of the heart from last year and sighed. "Sam, uh..." he hesitated as Sam waited for the question he knew Gabriel was going to ask. "What's the difference between atrial and ventricular septum defect?" he asked softly.

"With atrial, the hole is in the upper chambers and uh," Sam paused to shift his back down onto the pillows, "blood that's been to the lungs already pretty much goes back through instead of going to the ventricle." Gabriel nodded and continued writing.

"And ventricular is when the hole is in the ventricle, blood goes into the right?" Gabriel asked, not really wanting to have Sam explain that one. The other one nodded and went back to reading. Gabriel swallowed hard and leaned forward on his legs to look at his friend. "Sam?" he asked again. Sam let out a sigh and shut his book, knowing that now that they were on the topic, Gabriel wouldn't let it go. "When, uh...when are you supposed to get the transplant?" Gabriel asked, not looking up at him. Sam stretched his legs out so they were on either side of him, trying to get his awkwardly long legs to fit on the bed.

"Not sure. They said I was supposed to get it next month, but they called last week and said I wouldn't get it until December," he shrugged. Gabe sighed and met Sam's eyes, which were now a little darker than normal.

"Okay," Gabriel whispered, kind of regretting having asked the questions. Sam didn't like treating his condition like an actual condition, though it was important that he did. Gabe knew that, so he usually just kept an eye on him when he thought he should be. Don't let him smoke too much. Don't let get his heart rate up too high. Don't let him get too drunk. Things like that. He knew Sam, and Sam wanted to smoke and drink and do things he knew was bad for him. But Gabriel cared too much about him to let him destroy himself.

Anyone that knew Gabriel knew that he was incredibly in love with Sam, except for Sam.

* * *

Dean always figured that the only people in his life would be Sam and Bobby. It was never thought that he'd get close to anyone else. Sure there were girls that he dated and they knew a little about him. They lasted a few weeks at the most. He thought that would be his life, honestly. He was okay with that.

But then he found Castiel, and that flipped everything over.

When they first met, the September after John died, Dean was in a state of depression that Bobby thought he'd never get out of. Castiel was in his class the last year of middle school, and he walked into the second floor bathroom when the younger boy was crying. It wasn't like Dean to open up so easily, barely to Sam, let alone a complete stranger. But Castiel had an something about him that made Dean spill out everything. They were twelve years old and Dean was so empty an Castiel was so full of love.

And so now they were laying together on Dean's bed, nine years after the breakdown in the washroom. Dean was tracing lines down Castiel's back, the two of them lazy and quiet in the low-lit room. Before two years ago, when Dean started his Criminology course and Castiel started with getting his English degree, neither of them saw themselves like this. Things were platonic back then, back when Castiel was still afraid of his father and Dean was trying to make sure he graduated for Sam. Neither of them knew when they started to love each other. It was just there.

"What are you gonna do about the transplant?" Castiel asked lazily, turning his head so his cheek was against the pillow. Dean was propped up on one elbow, looking down on the tired face. "I mean, didn't his doctor say he might not..."

Dean took a deep breath and sighed. "I don't know, Cas," he mumbled, trailing his hand up Castiel's back and up to the nape of his neck to play with his scruffy hair. "Worst comes to worst they'll have to go in there and close it up." Castiel nodded and dropped his gaze down to the pillows again, then reached up to cup his boyfriends cheek.

"He's gonna be okay, you know that," Castiel smiled, running his thumb across the freckles that littered Dean's face. "He'll get the transplant. He's gonna be fine."

"How are you so optimistic all the time?" Dean sighed. Castiel shrugged and smiled at the man. The look they shared was so full of love and the big black hole in Dean's heart had been replaced by Castiel. "What would I do without you?"

"Crash and burn," Castiel smirked, and Dean laughed.

The door opened downstairs and Dean sighed, pouting at Castiel. Though he was sure his brother knew about their relationship, he still wanted to be careful about being too lovey around him. Castiel sighed and crawled out of the bed, reaching down to the floor to get his boxers. He almost considered pulling on Dean's sweatpants, but the less obvious they were, the less Sam might think they were a thing. Dean yawned and got his own clothes, laying back down on the bed.

"I fell asleep while we were doing a project?" he asked, looking at the boy who was pulling on a shirt. Castiel nodded and threw a few of their books on the bed then planted a kiss on Dean's forehead. "That's it?" Dean smirked, pulling Castiel back down and kissing his lips. Castiel hummed and smiled, trailing his hand across Dean's chest before leaving the room quietly.

Sam was leaning on the kitchen counter, head hanging between his shoulders. Castiel was quiet coming downstairs, so he was able to watch the kid for a few seconds before making his presence known. He was tall and lanky, still trying to grow into his own bones. The way his hair stuck up, and how his shoulders and legs were shaking, told Castiel that he wasn't doing so well.

Castiel opened his mouth to ask if he was okay, but decided that wasn't the best way to go about it. Instead, he took a few steps back up the stairs and made his entrance a little louder. Sam straightened immediately and coughed, rubbing his hand over his face before turning and nodding to Castiel. The smile he kid shot over to him was tired and faded.

"Where's Dean?" Sam asked, voice raspy. Castiel pretended to count the pizza money on the table so he didn't have to answer right away. Talking to Sam was easy, but it wasn't something that happened often.

"Asleep. Apparently projects wear him out," Castiel replied, trying to sound indifferent. Sam leaned back on the counter with a weak smirk. Was he paler than normal, or was it the lighting in the kitchen?

"Projects as in school work or projects as in you?" Sam asked, slowly, but surely. Castiel froze momentarily, feeling his face heat up. "Oh, I _knew_ it!" Sam grinned, stepping forward. He placed a hand on Castiel's shoulder, a bit of life back in his eyes now, and he smiled. "I'm not supposed to ask him about it, am I?"

Castiel sighed and ran a hand back through his hair, where Dean had previously grabbed and tugged at. "Honestly, I don't really think he cares," he said, a small smile turning up the corner of his mouth. After he thought for a moment, he ducked his head, "You're not mad, are you?" Sam barked a laugh and shook his head, dropping his hand from Castiel's shoulder and smiling.

"You're his best friend, how can I be mad?" he shrugged. "Plus, you're my best friend's brother. It's cool." Castiel let out a sigh of relief and actually full on smiled. "You guys just might wanna be a little quieter because Bobby's thinking about barging in next time you wake him up." With that, Castiel went completely red and Sam burst out in laughter that Castiel hadn't heard come from him in ages. Though he was the butt end of the joke, it made him happy that Sam could joke with him. Seeing the Winchesters happy made him happy, and he wasn't quite sure if he was still sticking around for their happiness or his.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**April 23rd, 2014**

If you asked Michael Novak why he was sitting on his porch at two AM, he'd probably just tell you that he couldn't sleep. But once you add the fact that it was pouring rain and everyone in the house was awake, you start questioning why the boy was sitting out there by himself if he couldn't sleep.

Long story short, Michael wasn't the strong hearted, level headed son he was without Lucifer to be his counterpart.

He turned the empty pill bottle around in his hand, his knees pulled up to his chest on the porch bench. He could hear Castiel shouting at Jimmy, something the other Novaks would never dare do. But those Winchesters tied him up in knots and flipped him upside-down and now the oldest brother was the only one who would stand up for himself or his younger siblings.

The door creaked open and a frail figure peeked out the door, then stepped out. Michael looked up from the spot on the lawn that he had his eyes set on and sighed when his mother smiled at him. She hugged her jacket around her and looked towards the street, before moving to sit beside the second oldest son. No words were said, but Michael leaned into his mom's side and rested his head on her shoulder. They were quiet as Anna shouted something from inside, then slammed a door.

"We should be with him," Michael whispered, looking back at the pill bottle. Naomi sighed and reached out for the bottle.

"I thought I told you to put that back," she mumbled, tracing her thumb over the label. Novak, Lucifer. "Do you think your father would be mad if I drove you over to see him?"

"Ferocious," Michael muttered, cuddling closer to his mother. She smiled and brushed back his hair. "He was so pale, mom. He looked like a ghost," he whispered, voice breaking as the image flashed before his eyes again. He'd gone into his brother's room earlier that night to get Lucifer for dinner, but all he found was a piece of paper on his bed. Michael didn't have to read it to know. The bathroom was locked, but Michael had to pick the lock so many times to give someone toilet paper that it was easy. His brother was on the floor, pale and broken in a puddle of puke.

"I know, baby," Naomi whispered, smoothing his hair back again, then kissing his head. She'd found Lucifer like that before. This wasn't the first time it'd happened. It was just the first time someone other than Naomi or Jimmy or Castiel had found him. Usually the younger siblings were told that he was sick, but Michael was in such a state of panic that the whole family knew. "He'll be okay. He always is, baby," Naomi continued, soothing her now shaking son. The yelling had stopped but no one had come looking for the two, so they stayed out in the cold until Michael started dozing off. "Come on, Michael, you need some sleep. Come on," Naomi coaxed, leading her boy up and into the house. Jimmy was scowling at the TV, barely paying any attention to the rerun of _Friends_. All the kids had probably gone to their rooms.

Michael sat on his bed and picked up a teddy bear that sat on the shelf above his bed. "Mom?" he asked before she shut his door. She stepped back in with a soft smile, waiting for him to speak. "How come he got it? Why couldn't I have gotten it?" he muttered, pressing his thumb into the small hole under his teddy bears neck. Naomi sighed and watched him for a few seconds before walking in and closing the door behind her. "Or I mean...both of us could've gotten it." Naomi sat on the end of his bed, eyes set on the teddy bear. "I hate not knowing how he feels," Michael sighed.

"Lucifer's like grandma, you know that," Naomi shrugged. "In more ways than his looks," she added with a small smile. Michael swallowed hard and nodded. "I'm not sure why he has it and not you, but you know what that means?" she asked, placing her hand on his back. He looked up from the bear and met his mother's blue eyes. "It means you have to watch over him. You have to do the things that are best for him." Michael sighed and nodded. Naomi was silent for a moment before smiling. "You know, I'm not even sure which bear that is anymore, you and him would swap those things almost every night," she laughed. Michael smiled and thumbed the velvet nose.

"This one's Luke's. The nose is white, mine's black," he said, then yawned. "I'm gonna try sleeping, mom."

"Alright, baby. Don't worry about anything, okay?" she smiled, messing up his hair. He smiled and nodded, standing to look for sweatpants in his drawer. "I'll wake you up when I go to pick him up tomorrow, I think you guys can stay home from school," she nodded before opening the door. She looked tired and weak, and now she had to face Jimmy.

"Night, mom," Michael smiled, then she left and shut the door. He let out a long sigh and changed into his sweatpants, waiting to turn off his light until his mom's footsteps disappeared down the hall. He got under the blankets and pulled his phone off of his nightstand. There were a few texts he'd missed from Rachel and Adam, but he didn't care about replying to them. The conversation titled **Luke** was on his screen, and he started typing. Lucifer would have his phone with him. It was always on him.

> hey, lukie. i love you a lot, you know that right bud? im not just saying that because the circumstances are shit, but really. i dont care why you did it. i just want you to be okay, alright luke? im probably gonna kick your ass tomorrow, but thats what a big brother's supposed to do, right?

* * *

When Bobby Singer wasn't out hunting or hanging around at bars, he was either out back with his salvation yard or with the boys. Even if Dean was too hungover, or if Sam was too tired, Bobby would drag the boys out to wherever he felt and go hunting. Even if they didn't see any deer or anything, Bobby could still say he took the boys out for a hunting trip.

Once Dean was fourteen, they discovered that he was one of the best at aiming perfectly on the deer's heart. Sam, on the other hand, was better at finding the animals. Something Bobby couldn't see with years of experience under his belt, Sam saw like it was right out in the open. Not to say he wasn't as good a shot as Dean, it was just the boys were different in their own ways. Sam was the brain and Dean was the brawn, and that scared the socks off Bobby because the kids could plan a mass murder if they wanted to and get away with it.

So when his adopted sons started acting oddly suspicious around the house, he got a little paranoid. Sam kind of leaned away when he was on his phone, which was normal, but Bobby would catch glimpses of whatever he was on, taking note of the picture of a gun. Dean kept going out with a list of things that Sam had wrote down. Maybe they actually were planning a mass murder.

Dean peeked his head in through the front door, whistling shortly to get Sam's attention. The younger brother put down his book and stood up, peeking around the corner to see if Bobby was in the living room. "I'm pretty sure he went to the Roadhouse. Did you get?" Sam asked, stepping onto the porch with his older brother. Dean nodded with a grin, popping the trunk of his Impala. A small wooden box lay in the corner, and Sam lifted it up.

"Oh, man, Sam, she's a beauty. Nicer in person," Dean smiled as Sam opened the box. The only response he got was a long whistle of impression. "He's gonna freak, he's been looking for her for ages. Like, longer than we've been alive," Dean said as he shook his head. He picked up the handgun and held it up to the dim light of the moon. "Let's hope he doesn't kill us with it."

"Jesus, Dean, be careful with that, put it down," Sam hissed, pushing Dean's hand back towards the box. Dean chuckled, but his toothy grin immediately snapped into a straight line.  Sam swallowed hard and turned around, coming face to face with a grumpy old man. "Oh, Bobby," Sam sputtered, shoving the box behind him and into Dean's gut. Their uncle looked between them, expecting something that the boys wouldn't give. "I thought you went out," Sam said with the most innocent smile he could muster.

"Dean, give me the box," Bobby sighed, looking past the freakishly tall boy in front of him.

"What box?" Dean asked, then looked into his hands. "Oh, this one? It's, it's nothing. Just a box."

"What's in the box?" the older man asked, trying hard not to lose his patience on the kids. Sam turned around and raised his eyebrows at his older brother.

Dean blinked and smiled at the man. "The pretty head of your wife," Dean nodded, and Sam just glared at him. Bobby rolled his eyes and nudged Sam out of the way, snatching the box from Dean. The boys stood next to each other as the top of the wooden box was opened, and Bobby's eyes widened. "Happy birthday, Bobby," Dean smiled as their uncle held up the handgun to examine it.

"How on earth did you two find this?" he asked softly, marveling over the gun.

"Sam has really sketchy friends, and one of them happened to know a guy," Dean replied, and Sam ended up getting a frown from Bobby, but he shrugged it off. "You think it's the real thing?" he asked hesitantly, watching as Bobby checked the box, decked out with five bullets.

"I...I'm gonna have to wrap my head around this before I try and figure that out. Looks like it. If she's a fake, I'm usin' two bullets on both of ya idjits," Bobby smirked, then put the gun back in it's spot and closed the box. "Thanks, boys."

It wasn't often that they hugged. When they were younger, Sam had a hard time not clinging to either of them. Dean wasn't much of the affectionate type, and Bobby really only showed tough love towards them. The only recent times they shared a hug was when Sam found out the transplant was a go, and again when Sam found out it wasn't.

The three stood in an awkward, but comfortable, hug for a few moments, before the thunder clapped and rain started pouring.

* * *

**April 24th, 2014**

When he woke up that morning, Lucifer scowled. The sun was too bright in his room and the beeping of the machines were too loud and he was alive. He knew he was alive last night, when he woke up and had to talk to at least three different people, and he read his texts and Michael's contact name appeared. He knew he was alive when he rolled to his side and wouldn't stop crying because he hurt his brother, until he fell asleep. He just kind of hoped the pills were taking a long time to kill him, so of course the sun and the machines were a nuisance to him when he found out he wouldn't be so lucky.

A nurse peeked her head in before walking in, her face young and caring. She was his nurse before. "Good morning, Lucifer," she smiled before checking the numbers on the machine. Lucifer had been in the hospital enough times to know which numbers meant what and what was bad and what was good. Unfortunately, his vitals were looking fine. "Your mother called at twelve. She should be here in about fifteen minutes, so I guess she's bringing you some clothes." The nurse spoke softly, kind of like she was talking to an upset child. But she meant well, really. How else would you act towards a suicidal teenage boy? She took his blood and sighed. "Lucifer you know you have to stop doing this," she said quietly. Lucifer hummed and shrugged. The nurse watched him for a few moments, then turned around to leave.

He spent the next ten minutes picking at the scabs on his wrists, staring at the wall ahead of him. He wasn't sure which ones to avoid, scared that they'd start bleeding and the nurse would think they were fresh cuts. He tore his hand from the scab and busied it with cracking his knuckles. How many pills had he taken last night? It was a good half a bottle of Clozaril, which would've done him good. It'd brought him right to edge once before, but they had to go and zap his heart back. God, why wouldn't they let him die?

There was a knock on the door and Lucifer's pale stare switched from the white wall to his mother's soft smile. "Hi, honey," she said, stepping in and shutting the door. Lucifer smiled at her and tugged his arms closer to his stomach, hiding whatever marks where there. "Michael's worried sick about you, so hurry up and get dressed," she smiled, handing him a bag of clean clothes.

"Thank God, these hospital gowns are terrible," he sighed, pulling a pair of sweats under his blankets so he could change quickly. He untied the gown and pulled on his t-shirt, then dug for the hoodie at the bottom. He looked at his mom and smiled a bit, getting a weak smile from her. "You didn't sleep last night," he mumbled, shoving his shoes on.

"How could I, honey?" she shrugged, and Lucifer swallowed hard.

"Sorry, mom," he whispered, hugging her tightly. Naomi was shorter than all the boys, so when she was hugged, she got wrapped in a blanket of love. Lucifer, of course, was the one who offered the most love towards her. He was the only one of her sons that looked anything like her side of the family, and unfortunately that came with the genes that made him the way he was. "I wanna go see Mikey," Lucifer mumbled, and Naomi nodded.

The ride home was quiet and took way longer than it usually took to get from the hospital to their home. If it were Jimmy that had picked him up, Lucifer would have an earful of anger and sin. What did they expect him to do when they named him Lucifer? Be completely innocent? That was Gabriel's job, and he was barely doing a good job at it.

The house came into view, and once they pulled into the driveway, Lucifer was starting to shake. "Is dad home?" he asked hesitantly, looking over at his mother. She smiled and shook her head. Luckily, their father thought work was more important than his children. Lucifer opened his door and followed his mother to the front door, and as soon as he walked in, he went upstairs.

Michael woke back up to a weight being added to his bed. He yawned and checked to see who'd woken him up again, but he was wide awake when he saw the pale face of his brother. "Lucifer," he breathed, reaching forward and hugging him to his chest. Lucifer was already shaking, and he clung to his big brother like nothing else mattered. "Don't do that again, Luke. Please," Michael whispered into the blonde hair, and the younger twin nodded, a small sob coming from him.

"I'm sorry, Mike," he whimpered. He kept repeating it under gasps and sobs, until the two fell asleep on Michael's twin-sized bed.

Michael woke up two hours later, around the time Jimmy should be coming home from work. Lucifer was sleeping like a baby, so the older twin got up and fixed the blankets around the boy, then went downstairs. Gabriel was the only one in sight, sprawled out across the couch watching what looked like Avengers. The youngest son looked up from the TV and nodded to his older brother, who smiled on his way to the kitchen. Naomi was standing at the counter, pushing buttons on the coffee maker.

"I'm guessing you two fell asleep?" she asked when she saw him reaching into the fridge for some juice. He nodded and moved to the cupboard. Naomi sighed and leaned back against the counter, the smell of coffee whirling around the kitchen. "He wanted to see you so bad," she sighed, and Michael nodded, taking a small sip from his glass.

"What do you think dad's gonna say to him?" Michael asked, looking out the window and into the driveway. When his father's car pulled up, he would go up to his room and make sure Lucifer was okay. He had to make sure he was okay.

"Honestly, I..." Naomi mumbled, then shrugged. "I just hope he's not too hard on him." Michael nodded and finished his juice before putting it in the sink. The black SUV pulled into the driveway, and the garage door opened, and Michael held his breath.

"I'm gonna go wake him up," he said quietly, then did so. When he opened his bedroom door, Lucifer was already sitting up in the bed, frowning down at the blankets. "Hey," Michael greeted, and Lucifer just smiled slightly. Michael sighed and sat across from Lucifer on the bed, checking behind him to make sure he actually shut the door. "Listen, don't worry about dad, okay? You know what he's like."

Lucifer chortled and shook his head. "Mike, last time this happened, he broke my arm. Of course I'm gonna worry," he mumbled. Michael nodded slowly, and listened carefully downstairs. It was quiet other than the odd noise from Gabriel's movie. The bed was shaking slightly, and Michael frowned before examining his brother. His body shook, just a little, but it worried him.

"Luke, it's okay," Michael whispered, taking one of his brother's hands. He knew that no matter what he said, Lucifer would be scared shitless of their father. Almost all of the kids were afraid of him. "Lucifer, it's gonna be fine." Something crashed downstairs, and Naomi yelped. Lucifer jumped, but so did Michael, who stared wide-eyed at the door. Jimmy was yelling, but Michael couldn't hear well enough. "Stay here, Luke," he mumbled, before getting up and walking to the door.

_"...and it's all because of him, Naomi! I don't care what you say, if he wants to die so much, he can! I'm not dealing with him anymore!"_

_"Jimmy, he's your son!"_

_"No, he's_ your _son. It's your fault he's like this!"_

There was a knock on the door and Michael jumped, then cracked it open. Gabriel stood, small and scared, and Michael let him in. He went and sat with Lucifer on the bed, resting a hand on his knee. Michael wasn't sure if Lucifer could hear any of the shouting, but he continued to listen anyways.

_"I'm bringing him right now, and you're not going to do anything about it! He belongs in a fucking ward!"_

_"Jimmy n-"_

There was another crash, and Michael backed away from the from the door with wide eyes."What was that?" Lucifer asked quietly. Michael pushed his hair back and looked between his brothers and the window. Gabriel caught on quickly and hugged Lucifer before getting up and leaving the room.

"Okay, Luke, listen to me. You're gonna leave, and you're never gonna come back. Alright?" Michael spoke quickly, hands on both shoulders.

"What?"

"Please, Lucifer. It's for your own good, please," the older brother sighed, then backed up to open the window.

"What? Michael no, I'm not-" Lucifer stopped talking and jumped when the door opened. Gabriel rushed in with Lucifer's hockey bag and shoved it towards him. "You guys, I...where-"

"Go to Sam's, I just texted him. Cas is probably there," Gabriel nodded, holding onto Lucifer's arms. The older brother shook his head, then looked at Michael. with scared eyes.

"Lucifer, _go_ ," Michael hissed, the heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. Lucifer whimpered, looking between his brothers, then lifted himself up onto the window sill. "Text me if you need anything and I'll bring it to school tomorrow, alright?" Michael smiled, and Lucifer just swallowed hard. He dropped down to the roof as he heard the footsteps outside of Michael's bedroom, and Michael shut the window.

_"Where is he?"_

_"Not here."_

Lucifer squeezed his eyes shut as Jimmy started shouting, and he hopped down onto the porch roof. When he got onto the lawn, he looked behind him through the living room window. Naomi was watching him, cheek red and nose bloody. She smiled and nodded at him, and he nodded back, then he made his way down the road.

* * *

Sam was handing Bobby a book from the library when his phone buzzed. The gun was laid out on the table, all the bullets sitting beside it. Bobby flipped through the book and shook his head in disbelief. "Sam, I'm pretty sure this is the real thing," he said in awe. Sam grinned and fished for his phone in his pocket, reading Gabriel's contact name and opening the text.

> dad's freaking out. can lucifer stay at your place? hes on his way even if you say no but im guessing cas is there so its not a big problem

Sam frowned and was about to call out to Castiel when he ran down the stairs and into the kitchen. They made eye contact and Castiel sighed, running his hand back through his hair. Dean followed soon after, looking just as confused as Sam.

"I'm guessing Gabriel texted you?" Castiel asked, and Sam nodded. Castiel ran his hand over his face and nodded.

"I...I mean, I guess he can? I don't know. Bobby?" Sam called, turning back into the reading room.

"Don't care, go for it," Bobby replied, waving Sam away. The boy blinked then turned back to his friend and shrugged. Castiel nodded, but then shook his head. Dean touched his shoulder and smiled, unsure of what was even going on and why things were happening. Castiel smiled back and Sam rolled his eyes at the two, who were apparently trying to be subtle about their relationship, but they really sucked at being subtle.

Castiel was sitting out on the porch, waiting for his brother to arrive, when Sam leaned against the counter beside his brother and sighed. "Cas' family is messed up," Dean said simply, and Sam chuckled. "I'd tell you, but I'm not sure how much Cas even wants me knowing."

"It's fine. Gabe'll probably end up telling me, anyways," Sam nodded. Dean huffed and looked out the window, to where his boyfriend had stood from the porch swing. He'd made his way down the driveway and was clinging to his little brother.

"I'm so sorry, Lucifer," Castiel whispered into his brother's shoulder, and the younger brother nodded and squeezed into the hug. "What was he saying?"

"I don't know, Michael didn't tell me. He just...told me to leave," Lucifer sighed. Castiel swallowed hard and lead the boy towards the house. Gabriel had told him what Jimmy had threatened, he knew what he said. He felt bad because Lucifer got thrown out for reasons he didn't understand, but he couldn't tell him just yet. The kid just got out of the hospital, and their father was going to throw him back in there for good.

Lucifer nodded to Sam when he saw him, and the boy waved from where he was helping Bobby still with the gun. Castiel knew the house like it was his own, so he lead his little brother upstairs and down the hall towards the guest room. "I'm guessing you'll be staying in this room," Castiel shrugged as he flicked on the light. "Sam's right next door, and Dean's across from Sam. The bathroom is right across the hall."

"You know this place pretty well, Cas," Lucifer smirked, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Oh, don't start," Cas muttered, shoving his brothers head gently. "Do you have your meds?" he asked, gesturing towards the bag. Lucifer shrugged and put the bag down on the bed before opening it. There was some rattling as he fished around his bag, so he knew Gabriel was smart enough to pack them. After a bit of rummaging, he pulled out two bottles and handed them to Castiel. The older brother turned the bottles in his hands and read the labels. "Lucifer, I'm not stupid."

"Oh, come on," Lucifer sighed, turning back around and taking out his Adderall. Castiel smiled and took it from him. "I don't see why I can't hold on to the Adderall and Xanax, I need those regularly," he pouted, sitting on the bed.

"You know why you're not allowed, Lucifer," Castiel mumbled. The younger brother rolled his eyes and fell back onto the bed. "You alright?"

"Yep," Lucifer replied, eyes now closed. Castiel hovered for a few seconds, then left the room, leaving the door open just slightly. As soon as Lucifer heard the footsteps disappear, he sat up and went through his bag again, hoping Gabriel was smart enough to pack his Arizona can. He felt the tall can near the bottom, let out a sigh of relief, and pulled it out. The top unscrewed and underneath one of his dime bags was another small bag, containing all sorts of sharp things.

There was a knock at his door and Lucifer tossed everything back into the bag and he looked up with wide eyes. Sam peeked in and smiled and pushed his hands in his pocket.

"Did Gabe tell you what happened?" Lucifer asked hesitantly, looking down at his hands. He saw Sam shake his head, and he smiled.

"Not even gonna ask," Sam smiled. "I'm gonna take a shower, so if you need the bathroom, there's one downstairs beside the kitchen," he nodded, then left the room, shutting the door behind him. Lucifer ran a hand through his hair and looked at the razors in his bag, making sure most of them were there. Most of the time, he'd go right for them, not really caring if blood got anywhere. But if he was gonna have to stay away from home for awhile, he didn't want to ruin his chances at staying at that place by bleeding everywhere the first day he was there. Maybe he'd wait for the shower.

* * *

Castiel crawled under the blankets, snuggling into the warmth of the already asleep Dean. It was five in the morning and Castiel couldn't even try to sleep. He'd checked on his little brother multiple times, and each time he checked, the boy was asleep with his arms clinging around a small teddy bear. There was never a time when he didn't worry about Lucifer, but now was more than ever. He was the one who found him the first time Lucifer tried killing himself, with most of his mother's sleeping pills missing from the bottle. Ever since then, Castiel had this need to keep an eye on the boy, even though Michael was doing a fine job. It was just Michael never knew what was wrong with Lucifer.

Dean made a noise in his sleep and shifted himself back towards Castiel. Cas smiled and wrapped his arm around his waist, and Dean grabbed his hand.

"You alright, Cas?" he mumbled, clearly still half-asleep. Castiel just planted a kiss between Dean's shoulder blades, on the darkest freckle that Castiel would always kiss. "It's gonna be okay, babe," Dean slurred, squeezing his boyfriend's hand.

"Mm, I know," Castiel muttered against his back. Dean's breathing evened back out and one small snore escaped his lips, and Castiel knew he was asleep. He sighed and clung to the warm body against him, eyes watering slightly. Dean said it was okay. It was going to be okay. A tear dripped down his cheek, and he sat up to wipe it away. "Stop it," he whispered to himself. There were few times when Castiel got upset during the night, especially right after Dean said it would be okay. He was always okay if Dean said he was. He pressed his palms into his eyes and huffed. He wasn't going to sleep at all, especially when they would be getting up soon anyways. Instead, he got back out of bed and went downstairs. There was already coffee made, telling him that Bobby was awake already. He rubbed his eyes and grabbed a mug, then poured himself some coffee.

"Can't sleep, Castiel?" Bobby asked from the other room, and Castiel yawned before joining the man in the reading room. Bobby was reading one of his old books at his desk, lit only by the small table lamp. "Your brother's not completely okay, is he?" The question caught Castiel off guard, but Bobby was smart. He knew more about each of his boys than anyone, even themselves.

"He's pretty...not okay," Castiel sighed, sitting on one of the arm chairs. Bobby chuckled and nodded, then looked up from his book.

"What is it?" he asked, looking at the tired boy in the chair. Castiel looked into his black coffee, trying to think. He really didn't need to think about the reply, he just didn't want to have to say what was wrong with his little brother.

"A dangerous mix of ADHD and schizophrenia," he mumbled, and Bobby nodded, watching as Castiel searched for words. "He tried killing himself last night. For the...I don't even know how many times he's tried, I think I've lost count." He was silent again, before he rubbed at his temples. "Our dad threatened to check him into the psych ward and Michael told him to leave, so he's kinda...he doesn't know, though." Bobby was silent, and Castiel looked up at him. "I understand if you don't want him to stay here, I do. He has other friends, I really don't know why Gabe told him to come here."

"Because you're here, Cas," Bobby sighed, then closed his book. "Your brother can stay here as long as he needs to. He ain't the only one with a problem in this house. Maybe he can help a bit," he shrugged, standing up and taking his empty whiskey bottles to the kitchen.

 


End file.
